


A Glimpse of the Past

by AzureKate



Category: The Maze Runner (Movies)
Genre: Behind the Scenes, Gally living with Lawrence, Gen, Jansen shooting at Thomas, gally finds the other gladers, what Gally's thinking when he spots the others in the crowd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-24
Updated: 2018-06-24
Packaged: 2019-05-28 01:50:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15038063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AzureKate/pseuds/AzureKate
Summary: After miraculously being saved from the WCKD Lab outside the Maze, Gally joined the men beneath Lawrence. He would ride with them along their trips around the exterior of the Last City, trying to build an army to overwhelm WCKD. They could sneak into the city, easily, but they had no way to get inside the WCKD building.Gally always wondered what had happened to the other Gladers, if they escaped the lab at all. By the time he had came to, they were long gone. He lived his life day by day, constantly wondering what happened to his friends.That is, until one day Gally saw Thomas, Newt, and Frypan in the crowd outside the city.





	A Glimpse of the Past

 

Gally adjusted his mask, trying to ease his discomfort. The outskirts of the Last City were unbearably disgusting; there was a sweltering heat caught in the atmosphere, amplified by the thousands of people wandering around, complaining about WCKD and about the walls and about the Flare. It was a constant noise. The masses of dirty, unhappy people created a terrible heat, and the stench could suffocate any who breathed too much. The odor of people who had no access to clean showers—they didn’t even really have much clean water, and what they did have was reserved for drinking.

Gally had found himself in the company of some rebels, fellow WCKD protestors who shared his seething hatred for the company and all it had done to immunes like him. His immunity to the Flare had earned him some trust among their group, and a close place with its deformed and mutated leader. Gally didn’t fancy him much, but they had rescued him from the clutches of WCKD after he recovered from the original lab outside the Maze. He owed them a lot.

With great disdain, Gally shoved past some dirt-covered women who were sobbing in the street. He made his way to the parked van where the other armed, masked men were promptly beginning to gather for their daily trip through the city to yell out protests. They did their best to rally the people around the outer wall, hoping to someday build an army great enough to overwhelm the city. Generally, the response to their rounds through the streets was positive; people would cheer for them as they drove by. Clutching his gun in one hand, Gally gripped the ladder on the side of the van and hoisted himself up to sit on the back corner of its roof, beside another man. He was only a few years older than Gally, and he was one of the people Gally had taken the time to befriend.

“Hey there, Gally,” he greeted, adjusting his gun and tossing a nod to his friend.

“Hey,” he replied simply, making himself comfortable on the corner of the van.

“You’re in a pissy mood today. What’s eatin’ ya?”

“It smells awful in this part of the city. I hate it.”

“Ha, that’s fair. The people round here are definitely the worst smelling. Once we start moving it should get better. The breeze will waft it past us…hopefully.” He chuckled.

Gally leaned back on his elbows, taking a brief rest before their typical journey through the hopeless and torn down residents of the city’s exterior. He shoved his hand in underneath the side of his mask, rubbing his brow to wipe off the small beads of sweat that were forming there. The terrible heat only served to make the stench worse. And being hot surely didn’t help _him_ to smell much better.

He truly missed the Glade. At least they were clean there. Mostly.

“I had another dream,” Gally admitted after growing bored of the silence. “Another dream about the Maze.”

“Scary place.”

“Not much. Not the Glade in the center, anyway. That was my home, and I loved it. I wonder what happened to my other friends who escaped.”

“You know for sure they escaped?” he asked.

“Not _totally_ for sure, I guess. I mean, I _was_ lying on the floor dying. Couldn’t really see too well. I am pretty sure that I saw them leave, though, and well before any of WCKD came through. I think about it all the time. I wonder where they ended up.”

“Wouldn’t it be hilarious if they were _here?”_

“In the outskirts? No, that’d be terrible. I don’t wish that on any of them.” Gally chuckled.

“There’s not much out there beyond here. Some scattered villages, a few places that people like to _think_ are safe havens. But how good can they really be?”

Gally shrugged. The two looked down when some women came up to the side of the van and started crying to them, begging for help and reaching for their guns.

The man beside Gally was quicker to get fed up with it. “Hey, look, we’re doing the best we can! Move along. Don’t touch the guns! Git!”

The women argued for a moment before going up the side of the van, taking the time to beg the other men sitting on top or standing beside it before finally going on down the street.

“Must be nice to be an immune. To have that confidence,” he said suddenly, making Gally look at him.

“What’s up?”

“I said it must be nice to be an immune. You can go wherever you want and not have to worry about getting infected. Torn to shreds maybe, but at least the Flare can’t touch you. I wish I had that luxury.”

“Shut up,” Gally snapped. “You say that like it’s some great thing. Doesn’t make my guts any harder to rip apart.”

“That’s dark. C’mon. It’s disguised, but it was a compliment. Take it or leave it.”

They both looked when the van trembled to life. The driver hung out the window and called to all of the men around it, “We’re moving out! Everyone hop on.”

Within seconds, the van jerked and began to move forward; the men along its sides jumped on and grabbed on to the bars, and the ladder on the back. Gally sat up straight, watching as the van rumbled past crowds of desperate people, headed toward the gate of the Last City. They never went too close, but they had found that the angriest people were always gathering up near the bridge. That was always where they went to rally people to their cause—they were the most receptive of the protests.

As usual, Gally tuned out the deep, raunchy voice that was yelling out through the speaker at the front of the van, spewing anti-WCKD cries in an attempt to make the people angry, to make them hateful. Gally dedicated himself to scanning the crowds, watching for _anyone_ he knew. He looked out over the sea of people, examining their faces, their clothes, their gaits. Some were very interested in the van, and some were jogging behind it to join the cause. Others cast sideways glances up at the van and then ignored it, going about their way. Some would stare directly at Gally, either with infatuation or with fear. His face was skewed from sight by his mask, but his muscular body—clutching his semi-automatic rifle to his chest—was apparently a sight to behold. He was always quiet on the runs, but for some reason he noticed a lot of people watching him. He was a fit young guy, and that seemed to attract the attention of a lot of the women in the outskirts. Not that he cared; he just looked away and continued to scan the crowds.

As they got closer to the bridge that led to the gate, naturally the people were beginning to get more rowdy. Some people waited for the van to pass each day, and the cheering crowd trailing behind them was steadily growing.

He watched the line of people that moved over to clear a path, not particularly interested in any person.

Until he saw Newt.

There he was, standing at the side of the crowd, pressed up against two others; his dirty blonde hair had grown, and he was wearing a thick leather jacket with a dirty, light-colored fur trim. He looked a bit thinner than Gally remembered. Gally’s eyes locked on, and he stared at Newt’s face; Newt briefly made eye contact as the van was approaching, but he didn’t recognize him. He looked away, watching the man at the front of the van who had the speaker. Gally’s eyes darted away from his old friend and saw the tall, dark-skinned boy beside him. He wasn’t looking, but Gally recognized the heavy-set frame of Frypan.

And there he was. Standing at the front of the three, keeping Newt close to him and Frypan right behind him—it was Thomas.

The dark-haired Thomas, with bright skin and clear eyes; his brow was furrowed as he watched the van approach. Gally’s breath locked in his throat. He stared at Thomas’ face; right as the van passed him, Thomas looked up and noticed that one of the van’s men had trained his sights on him. Thomas, though he couldn’t see the face of Gally looking at him, stared back with a defiance that only Thomas could pull off. Gally could almost see a dare in his eyes; oh, you recognize me? _Dare_ you to do something.

Newt and Frypan were uninterested in the van and didn’t notice Gally. But Thomas was staring right back. Gally kept staring until the van began to get too far ahead of them.

“Hey,” he said in a hurry. His friend looked over.

“Yeah, Gal, what’s up?”

“That’s them,” he said. “My friends from the Maze. I just saw them.”

“You’re fucking with me.’

“I swear to God,” he snapped angrily. He reached out and pointed right at the distant Thomas, who had redirected his interest to a drone passing by. “Right there, that guy looking at the drone. That’s Thomas. Behind him, Newt, and Frypan. My friends from the Maze.”

“Holy shit,” his friend sighed.

“We need to pull them,” Gally said. “We need to get them out of here and back to base. We need Thomas.” Gally went to stand up.

His friend grabbed his arm and pulled him down. “Don’t go jumping off the van, kiddo. Relax. Wait here, I’ll go let them know. We’ll get them. Just relax.”

Gally watched as he crawled up the hood of the van to talk to the man with the speaker. Gally took several deep breaths, watching Thomas and the others until the van turned and they went out of sight. Within a few minutes, his friend returned to his side. “We’re good to get ‘em, Gally. We’re gonna park behind those buildings up there, and then everyone on the van will follow you. We’ll help you get them.”

“Thanks,” he said. “Thomas… he can get us inside the Wicked building. We need to get him.”

“I just said we’ll get them. Chill out.”

He patted Gally’s back. Gally impatiently waited for the van to pull off out of side behind the buildings. Once it was parked, the other vans pulled up and all of their passengers hopped off.

Gally jumped off the van’s roof and readied his gun. The driver climbed out and went back. “All right, immune. Tell us what we’re looking for.”

“There are three of them,” Gally explained. “One tall black guy. One guy in a brown jacket with fur on it; he’s got a limp. And there’s a third, a guy with dark hair. He’s the most important. I’ll point them out when I see them.”

“You know them?”

“They were in the Maze with me. They’re immunes like me, and probably being hunted by Wicked. I’m not sure why they’re here, but if we can grab them, they’re our ticket inside.”

“If you’re sure,” he said, cocking his gun. “Let’s go get them, then.”

Holding their guns close, all of the men rallied behind Gally, who didn’t hesitate to go right away. He ignored the men behind him, trusting that they’d follow him; with an extreme focus, he dove right into the crowd, looking around frantically in an attempt to spot the three Gladers. There was a strong flow of people headed toward the bridge, so he followed it. Once he got near, he finally caught a glimpse of Newt in the distance; he rushed a bit to catch up, trying to get close enough.

He got fairly close, and noticed his friend from beside him on the van was the one following directly behind him. He glanced over his shoulder. “That’s one of them there, in the brown jacket,” he said. “The others must be right in front of him. He’s probably lagging. The limp makes him slow.”

Gally took notice of Newt urging along a girl who was beside him. He thought nothing of it at first until he noticed that she looked back and was talking to him. It looked clear that they were together. And then an older, dark-skinned man turned back to talk to them both.

“It looks like they’ve got two others with them,” Gally noted to the other men behind him. “That girl, and the man in front of them. Grab them, too. You guys see him there, in the brown jacket? Him. Those two, and then a bit further up are the other two guys. They’re the ones.”

The men nodded to him, and the group branched out in both directions to circle around and close them in. Gally watched intensely, making sure they were getting close enough. Once he was sure they’d definitely get them, Gally took a deep breath and started walking. He couldn’t see Thomas or Frypan, but his eyes were locked directly on the center of Newt’s back. He couldn’t make it obvious that he was going right for him with the intention of grabbing him… Newt was smart and extremely perceptive. Gally was sure Newt would somehow hear his giant boots clunking up behind him, and despite his limp and naturally-slow gait, Newt could move quite quickly when he needed to. Gally feared that if Newt caught wind of his approaching captors, he’d duck out of the way and Gally would lose him.

And there it was; Newt turned and looked. He made eye contact.

Gally could see the distrust in his eyes, and the suspicion. He watched as Newt turned back to continue walking. He saw Newt glance to the right—he spotted the others. Gally cursed his men for being painfully obvious about it. They were all staring directly at Newt, and Newt noticed. Newt had noticed _all_ of them, and Gally saw his pace speed up a bit.

“Shit, he knows,” Gally cursed. His friend came up close behind him.

“How? They’re not even near him yet,” he said.

“Doesn’t matter, he’s smart. And they’re all staring right at him., he’s going to tell the others.”

Surely enough, Newt was shoving his way through the crowd up to the front. Finally, between several people, Gally caught a glimpse of Thomas, standing beside the older man from before. Newt rushed up and latched onto Thomas’ shoulders. Both Thomas and Newt suddenly looked back, and Newt pointed directly at Gally. With Newt’s warning, the group of five noticed the circle of Gally’s men closing in. They looked right at Gally, who began shoving his way through the crowd trying to reach them.

The older man stepped forward and pulled a gun from his jacket—visibly prepared to defend the boys and single girl who were with him. Gally cursed.

But then, the ground shook with a loud rumble. The ground vibrated beneath their feet, and Gally looked up in horror; the massive guns on the walls of the Last City were igniting, turning and training their gazes onto the gathering crowd of people who were screaming at the walls and flaunting signs. Everyone fell silent, turning to watch the guns as they rotated and took their aim.

“Shit!” Gally cried. “The drones must have flagged us!”

“They’re not gonna shoot into the crowd…are they?” his friend hissed.

“That’s exactly what they’re gonna do,” Gally said. He looked to his men, who were all looking back on Gally with panicked faces. “Let’s go, let’s go!” He waved them over. All of the men abandoned their hunt for the other immunes and started running back toward the buildings—and to safety. Gally turned and shoved his friend back toward the buildings. “Go!”

“What about you?”

Gally took a breath. “I _need_ to get them.” He looked back to the Gladers.

“Gally, you can’t”—

A massive, ear-popping explosion ignited on the bridge just a few dozen feet in front of the crowd. Panic flew through the people like a sonic wave—everyone turned and ran for their lives. The guns on the walls were all firing missiles at the crowd, hitting a few but for the most part missing their targets.

“Go!” Gally screamed at this friend.

He nodded, and turned to run. Gally followed, but glanced over his shoulder every few steps. He could see Frypan running at the front, clearly the fastest of the group without fail. Trailing behind him were the other four, with Thomas willingly at the back to keep the others ahead of him—to keep them running. Gally kept his eyes locked on them, praying to God no missiles hit any of them. He ducked behind some debris, and watched as the group of five ran between some buildings.

Right toward where the vans were parked.

Gally booked it across the street and in between the next two buildings. He could see some of his men in the distance, and they noticed him running toward them. Gally inhaled as much as he could and called out, “That’s them! Grab them! They’re running through the other side!”

He was thankful to see some of the men run out of his sight, presumably toward the Gladers. He ran around the corner to see Newt being shoved into a van. He took a few steps forward.

He slammed into the front of Thomas, who was running to save Newt. Without thinking, Gally grabbed Thomas’ arms and dragged him toward the van. Briefly, Thomas stared into the visor of his helmet, straining to see his face. There was a look of shock on his face, and Gally smirked. It was entertaining to be unrecognizable. Thomas had no clue what he was in for.

Pulling Thomas out of harm’s way, Gally pulled him to the van, threw him inside, and rushed to climb in behind him.


End file.
